


Don't

by Hopeful_Foolx



Series: Whumptober 2019 [8]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: GUYS, Guess who's stuck in this fandom, Hurt/Comfort, Whumptober 2019, stabbed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 21:50:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21004715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopeful_Foolx/pseuds/Hopeful_Foolx
Summary: Whumptober 2019 - Day 8, stabbed. It's a quiet evening in the tavern at their inn. Until someone shoves Caleb. And Molly steps hin.





	Don't

**Author's Note:**

> I will just write every whumptober-fic in this fandom. I don't care anymore. If you stuck around until now, you know that all mistakes are mine and stuff and I'm sorry for them. Blame it on the comments I get, because they give me life. You guys are amazing. I also value the Kudos, if it is social anxiety or if you're just not a comment-person, I get you. And I still love you :D

Molly is used to get mocked, it doesn’t bother him. Most of the time he laughs with the people trying to make fun of him, and yes, he is proud of it. It’s different when they make fun of others, but he keeps any possible rage to himself. They can fight for themselves, he doesn’t need to. Until one evening down in the inn, sitting at the fire next to Caleb. He is hunched over, squinting over notes and books. Molly cleans the swords in the dim light, or at least he pretends he does. His eyes wander over to the wizard every few minutes. He is consumed in his words, not noticing the very few other people down here. They sit in comfortable silence, the quiet chatter as background noise. He likes this quiet moment, where everybody else is asleep or does who knows what. Frumpkin sits on Calebs feet, tail moving lazily sometimes, but Mollys eyes keep moving over to Caleb again and again and again. His eyes, his fingers going over words and tracing paragraphs, carefully turning the pages as if the book was a living being. Sometimes he asks himself if he is that careful with the others too. The way he behaves around them sometimes make it seem like it. 

He is so consumed by it that he doesn’t notice the three people coming from behind, one of them swaying on his feet, and neither does Caleb. The other two laughing, he only realizes they’re close when they are  _ too close, _ one of them must have said something because they are laughing louder now, and before he can react, someone shoves Caleb in the back, where he falls forward on the table, spilling ink over his clothes, paper, table, possibly books. He has to keep himself from making it worse by trying to help, but he can’t really do anything, it already is too late. So he jumps to his feet. The three men are laughing again, stupid, so stupid but Caleb… 

Caleb does nothing. He curses something in zemnian and brings his notes out of the black puddle with ink-stained fingers, shooing Frumkin away as he hisses angrily, ink also on his fur. The men laugh more. Still, Caleb ignores them. He doesn’t defend himself. No intimidation like Beau or Yasha, not like Fjord, no mockery like Jester. And he realizes that… Caleb never does anything like this. He is not tall enough to be intimidating, sarcasm is no weapon for drunk people. His magic is different, not useful in the tavern down here. 

Out the corner of his eye he sees a hand moving again and reaches forward, catching it in a tight grip. 

“Just… don’t.” he hisses, still calm somehow. For a moment, the mans eyes get wide, he stares at him, takes him in it seems. But alcohol makes the brave man a fool and he starts to grin again, laugh even, teeth visible. 

“Are you…” He looks over to his friends, seemingly ignoring Molly and that he still has his wrist in his grip. “defending this? Your boy? I mean, we all sometimes need to go low on standards to find out that wife’s at home’s fine, eh?” 

Caleb just sighs, not even looking up. 

“Just ignore them, Mollymauk.” He only turns to look at him. A drop of black ink on his cheek and it just… Something in him snaps. 

“Leave. Now.” He growls, pushing the man in his grip backwards, releasing him right in time to make him fall flat on his ass. The swaying one watches with big eyes and a bigger grin, and Caleb sighs again, louder now. 

“Molly, it’s okay, I can rewrite the notes. Can you-” Molly cuts him off. 

“Shut up, it’s  _ not  _ okay.” He growls and turns back to the men. 

It doesn’t end like he wants it to, but it could be worse. The swaying one has to support the one that shoved Caleb in the first place, the third one, well, he missed the third one somehow. That’s the reason he is actually surprised when something cold hits him in the shoulder, making his arm go numb immediately. He looks down in surprise. The simple, disappointing wooden brown shaft of a dagger sticks out. Clean, and keeping the blood in neatly. Not a nice feeling, but … amusing, somehow. Cold and numb. 

“You don’t want that back, do you?” he asks, but the man just looks at him and a few seconds pass before… all of them turn around and run. Oh. He thinks about chasing them for a moment, but it passes and he feels … not really up to it. Instead he sits down on the bench next to Caleb. 

“Molly, this was not necessary, I’m sorry- Oh mein Gott, you’re hurt-” the wizard looks at him, touches his shoulder. “I’m getting Jester. Or Caduceus, one of them will still be awake, I am sure:” 

Molly keeps him on the bench before he can move to much. Moving his hand hurts his shoulder and ge grunts, and he gets ink on his hand as he touches Caleb. 

“Don’t worry too much about it. Stay here. Wait.” Calebs eyes scan him nervously, but he stays put. His shoulder hurts, and he wants nothing more than to take the damn thing out, but then it will start to bleed and a bloody mess on top of the mess of ink on the table is not what he prefers. Not with what he has in mind. Calebs eyes keep darting to his shoulder, not calm, he is so tense. And full of ink. Face, hands. It’s gorgeous. It’s not blue ink. He holds up his hand to wipe the black spot on his cheek away, but smears it instead. Okay, maybe the pain makes him a bit more sluggish than he wants to admit, as Caleb shoots him a curious look. 

“Don’t be sorry. Not for this.” He doesn’t release the wizard. 

“Don’t ever be sorry. Can you save your notes? The book?” It would be a shame for it to go to waste because of some drunken goons. 

“I… I need to rewrite some of it, but I saved the book. Splatters, but still readable. It’s okay.” He reaches out his hand, hesitantly, not touching. It’s hovering over his wound, the dagger still emerged there. 

“Not worth… You getting hurt.” Molly smiles, blinks, winks at him and grins wider. 

“I would get hurt for your books every day. Also, I get to keep a dagger. It’s kind of a boring one, but I can work with it.” Caleb shakes his hand, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. Molly joins in louder, hissing in pain almost immediately. It hurts more now, and yes, he still has a dagger in his shoulder. But somehow it’s okay.  _ I would get stabbed for you every day. _ What is he thinking? First watching the wizard, getting into a fight, and now this? It’s not the pain or the numbness in his arm, but he really wants to lean forward and-

He pulls himself out of his thoughts with a groan. 

“Also, I think you can take me to Jester now.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! And if you want to scream about Critical Role with me, I'm on Tumblr! @loves-already-won


End file.
